Then he sprang up and was in time to pull trigger at his enemy, who fell back.
Robert was able to tell in the single glimpse through the fog that De Courcelles was not killed.

The bullet had struck him in the shoulder, inflicting a wound, certainly painful but probably not dangerous, although it was likely to feed the man's hate of Robert.

Even so, young Lennox was glad now that he had not killed him, that his death was not upon his hands; it was enough to disable him and to drive him out of the battle.
The fighting grew once more in volume and fury.

Rifles cracked continuously up and down the line.

The war whoop of the Indians was incessant, and the deep cheer of the borderers replied to it.